Seven Heaven
by Tashii-Loves-Music
Summary: A class x reader story. 9 chapters each one dedicated to a class when playing the game. "Seven Minutes In Heaven", doing in order of want on deviant art. :) Enjoy
1. Sniper

You're nervous as you delve your hand into the dark cloth bag that the Spy holds open. You can't see inside so you don't know what the classes have put inside. You can feel lots of different textures, some cold and slick, and others rough and warm. You hear a muffled clink and your hand grasps something long and smooth.

You pull the item upwards out of the bag, to see that it is in fact a necklace made of 5 slender silky white crocodile teeth. Each one is joined into worn brass clasps that hang on a dark brown thread. You hold it by the thread so that the lamp lights up the pale fangs and you hear the clink as the teeth clash together. "Who's is this?" you ask, looking around at the mercenaries, though you know full well who it belongs to.

You watch as the Sniper stands up adjusting his tan brown hat on his head. "That'll be mine. It's my crocodile smile." He confirms in his deep dry voice, and walks up to where you stand, towering over you and holding out his hand. You drop the unusual necklace into it and he puts it inside the pocket of his vest.

He then makes his way to the makeshift 'closet' which is just an unused storeroom and the door is held open by the Spy, waiting for you to follow. You feel your face redden as you realise that the Sniper has gone ahead and is waiting for you and you hurry through the door, ignoring the sly chuckle the Spy gives as you dart by.

"Seven minutes, you two," he calls coyly before shutting the door, drenching the room in darkness.

"Sniper?" You call out, unsure, as you feel the wall attentively, using it to guide you. A flicker lights the darkness and you can make out the dark shape of the Sniper with his back to the wall, sat on the floor in the corner of the store room, a wavering match between his fingers.

"I'm here; come sit down," he calls, and you walk towards him shyly, settling yourself beside him. You watch the flame wobble as it wears down the match. "I'm not really used to this kinda game," the Sniper begins as he too watches the flame, its shimmering orange silhouette reflecting in the amber-tinted lenses of his glasses.

"I think I played this once back when I was a teen - it ended with me in the closet with my friend's girlfriend and I didn't do anything." He chuckles gruffly, turning to look at you a small grin on his lips. "So you don't have to do anything, if you don't want to." He finishes, his breath causing the flame to ripple crazily.

You don't know what makes you do it but you lean over suddenly and blow out the dancing flame, engulfing yourself in darkness, the light smell of smoke filling your nose. You hear the chuckle again along with the sound of the match hitting the ground. "That was my last match you know." He grumbles jokingly.

"Can we give it a shot?" You ask quickly before you can go back on what you have just done, your heartbeat hammering in your chest. You don't hear an answer, but callous, gentle fingers skim your neck and travel up to trace your warming cheek. Your breath catches as he pulls you forward gently and you feel sun-kissed lips press against your own.

It's like an electric current has crackled up your spine. It's pleasant and the Sniper isn't a bad kisser at all. His lips move strong and sure against yours, your lips parting slightly to release a content sigh before the Sniper's tongue pries your lips open further, and your mouth fills with the taste of coffee and tobacco.

His weather-worn lips are incredibly gentle, each kiss as soft as the last. Your hand comes to curl into the soft, worn fabric of his vest, the other wrapping around his neck, pulling the Sniper closer. He responds positively, curling an arm around your waist and the hand which once cradled your cheek now cupping your neck.

Without much warning you hear the creak of the door opening and you open your eyes to see light spilling into the dark room, showing the Spy's slender silhouette in the gap. "Time's up, mes amis," he chuckles, moving away to let you out. Both you and the Sniper rise swiftly, trying not to look at one another.

You take the first step towards the light and feel a hand grab yours, pressing something into your palm. You accept it curiously and allow the Sniper to squeeze past, leaving you in the storeroom. You unfurl your hand and take in the item that lies there.

The Sniper's Crocodile Smile sits pearly white under the pale light from the doorway and against the warm complexion of your hand. With a shy happy smile on your lips, you slip the necklace into your jacket pocket and walk out to join the rest of the team.


	2. Soldier

Taking a deep breath you plunge your hand into the dark cotton bag that the Spy holds in front of you. Your hand explores the depths of the bag, touching a multitude of different items all with a different shell. You feel something cold and smooth skim the tips of your fingers. You reach deeper into the bag and grab the object, pulling it out of the bag.

You unfurl your hand to show a worn circular medal the colour of dark gold. It was one of those medals that soldiers got when they had done something commendable during the war. The tab that connected the medal to its owner's shirt was a dark, almost inky blue.

Holding up the medal, you look to your team mates wondering which man would be accompanying you to the closet. The Soldier shot out of his seat, almost sending his chair crashing to the ground. "Alright, Private! Look sharp!" He bellows as he marches over to you, standing a foot in front of you. You let a smirk slip onto your face as you straighten up; knowing that when it came to the Soldier, doing as he said was usually the only way to go.

Soldier looks you up and down before commanding you to follow him and marching towards the closet, tearing open the door and barrelling inside. You give your team a smirk and they all give you one back as you make your way to the 'closet'. Your hand just rests on the handle when you hear a sharp bark from inside.

"Hop to it, Private!" Soldier calls from inside the closet as you pull the door closed, engulfing yourself in darkness. You stand still for a moment, listening to the suffocating darkness hoping to uncover the Soldier's placement.

"Private?" A soft voice called from just in front of you. You put your hand out in front of you as you walk forwards slowly.

"Soldier?" You call out, your hand still outstretched and your fingertips brush something prickly and then something soft. You're startled and begin to retract your hand only for a strong firm one to capture your wrist.

"That'll be my face there, Soldier," a much quieter Soldier points out as he guides you further forward, pulling you into him. You are still startled by the fact that the ever loud and commanding Soldier is actually talking to you, instead of shouting that you had accidentally touched his face. But now you're confused by the sudden tenderness of his actions.

"During the war… I was still quite young." Soldier begins, his grip on your wrist still firm, his other hand resting on your shoulder. "For my age I was known for being a bit too serious. I never really allowed myself a chance to be happy. I wallowed in the depression of the fact that I was in a war and people were dying. The odd game of cards was all I let myself have." He continues to murmur.

You become absorbed in the story, hearing something in the Soldier's voice which sounds like he is far away, immersed in memories that you haven't seen. "But then one time, when I was staying in a little village called Eguisheim on my way to the frontline, a fellow soldier finally talked me into having some down time."

Subconsciously you are aware that the hand that once gripped your wrist is now holding your hand, but your main focus is the story that the Soldier is telling.

"So he took me to the local pub, just a few doors from our lodging. When we arrived the place was alive with music and the sound of women's laughter and men singing. I couldn't believe it, everyone was happy even though only miles away a war was being fought!" He half laughs, a sound that is so rare to you. The sound of it brings a smile to your lips as you listen earnestly as he continues on. "I then followed my fellow soldier to the bar and whilst I listened to him smooth talk the woman behind the bar; I felt a tug on my sleeve.

"When I turned around there was this little girl. She couldn't have been more than six or seven, with two long blonde braids running down her back. What she was doing in the pub I'll never know but she had her chubby little fist grasping tightly to my arm, an innocent question showing in her big almond eyes.

"'Monsieur, will you dance with me, s'il vous plait?' She asked, a big smile on her face, showing a row of neat pearly teeth as she gave my sleeve another tug. I returned that small child's smile. 'Isn't your daddy around, sweetheart?' I asked, getting up so that I could crouch down to come down to her level.

"The young French girl now grasped handfuls of her white lace dress as she continued to give me that adorable little smile. 'My mummy and daddy run the bar! But they are too busy to dance with me,' she giggled, covering her face in her little hands before another giggle escaped her and she grinned at me once more.

"I laughed at her innocence and held out my hand to her. She instantly grabbed hold as best she could, her hands looking so tiny in my own. 'Ok then,' I replied before letting the girl pull me away from the bar, and I then began to twirl her around."

You're so wrapped up in the story that you don't realise your arm is around the Soldier's broad shoulder and his strong arm coiled around your waist. Your free hand is being held by his as he slowly guides you in a slow dance, your head resting against his shoulder. You jerk your head up suddenly as you come out of your daydream, a scorching blush warming your cheeks.

"Tha-that was a beautiful story..." you whisper softly, as he continues to twirl you around, holding you against him. The Soldier gives a light, husky chuckle before he dips you backwards, knowing that his face is looming only inches above you in the unseeing darkness and you hear his helmet crash to the ground. "Thank you," he breathes softly before you feel his soft, partially chapped lips touch your own.

At the sudden change in affection, you let go of Soldier's hand and wrap both your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. You feel a reassuring grumble vibrate through your lips as the Soldier pulls you back up to him, both arms encasing your waist, trapping you against him. A bubble of laughter escapes your mouth when he pulls away and twirls you around again, humming a soft tune.

You're smiling fit to burst now, enjoying the calm and sweet atmosphere that surround you both. Enjoying the beautiful soul that is hidden beneath the Soldier's rough exterior.

"I like you like this, Solly," you whisper when he dips you again, before bringing you close to his chest.

"You can see more, if you keep it to yourself," he assures in his gentle yet gravelly voice.

You laugh and are about to speak again when the closet is flooded in light. "Time's up, mes amis," calls the Spy, his shadow obscuring only a little of the light. The Soldier releases you and bends down for his helmet you see a brief flash of cobalt blue before the helmet takes its place on the Soldier's head.

"Come on, Private! Hop to it!" The Soldier bellows before charging from the room. _Well, it was fun whilst it lasted_, you think, before shrugging and following him back into the floodlit room.


	3. Engineer

You let loose a child-like giggle as you reach inside the soft canvas bag that the Spy holds out to you. You look at him before delving your hand in completely and see a slight twitch in his cheek and the corner of his lip jerk upwards ever so slightly, almost unnoticeable.

You feel around the bag, searching for an object in particular. Spy had already told you what to look for and your hand rummaging through the bag finally feels something cold and heavy come in contact with your fingers. You grasp the item, feeling a cold surface against your heated palm, and you pull it out.

As you uncurl your hand, you see a small, slender spanner resting in your palm. It's metallic grey, the colour becoming worn from use. It has good weight for something so small and slender; when you feel its weight you think it should be bigger.

You give a small giggle and wave the baby wrench in the direction of the Engineer, causing the team to all stifle snickers as the blushing Texan stands up, adjusting his hard hat. You give him a reassuring smile as he ambles over to you, a slight confident swagger in each step.

He holds out his yellow gloved hand. You rest the baby tool in it and he puts in into the small black pouch on his work belt. "Alrighty then, we best get started," he announces heartedly in his soft southern accent as he ushers you towards the closet, the deep blush still decorating his cheeks, despite his seemingly calm façade.

You hear the rest of the team begin to snicker again, the Heavy's laugh booming loudly. You laugh also and notice that the Engineer, despite everything, chuckles with a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

You enter the closet first, inspecting the partly lit space and moving further inwards. You hear the Engineer following after as you look around the make-shift closet and see old hats lying around haphazardly. Some are broken and others dusty. Before you can investigate further, your vision is plunged into darkness.

You give an unsettled yelp and leap backwards, feeling your back hit something hard.

"Woah there darling, watch your step," came the Texan's nervous voice from behind you. You let out a relieved giggle and turn around to face the Engineer, only to see blackness.

"Whoops! Sorry, Engie!" You laugh softly reaching out to rest your hands on his chest. You feel the Engineer stiffen slightly then gingerly place his hands on top of yours and you hear a lingering chuckle as he pats them softly.

"It alright, honeybee," he murmured kindly, his voice thick and syrupy with his native accent. The sound made your spine tingle. You stand there for what feels like forever, your hands beneath his and pinned to his chest. The only sound that you can hear was soft rhythmic breathing from being in such close proximity.

You knead your bottom lip between your teeth nervously, trying to decide whether to just kiss the handsome man or stand here like a lemon. Every little piece of hyperactive happiness you had before seems to evaporate now you are with him and butterflies seem to rage in your stomach.

"D- Do you mind if I kiss you?" You squeak softly, feeling your stomach flip in anxiety as you hold your breath. You hear the Engineer take a sharp intake of breath and you prepare for the worst.

Then you hear a low, drawn out whistle.

"Well golly, I don't mind at all... if you really want to..." comes a meek and shy reply from the Texan, though oblivious to you a bashful smile plays on his face. You feel you heart leap at the reply and a rush of joy surges through you and before you could think any more you practically leap onto the little Texan, flinging your arms round his neck and pulling his lips to yours.

The Engineer stumbles back slightly, taken aback by your sudden boldness. His hands are resting on your upper arms, almost bracing you. It takes a few moments but then you feel his lips tentatively move against your own and you both issue soft, blissful sighs.

Now you let him set the pace as he becomes more confident, gently nibbling on your bottom lip, and both of his hands come to cup your face tenderly. Time seems to have disappeared as the door opens, bathing the pair of you in warm lamp light.

"Time is up, toymaker," comes an amused voice from the doorway. Breaking apart you see the Spy lounging against the door frame, a smouldering cigarette between smirking lips. The Spy then disappears from the doorway, leaving a now visibly blushing Engineer, spluttering for words.

"Come on Engie, let's go." You chirp happily as you grab his ungloved hand and drag him back into the light.


	4. Scout

You dig your hand deep into the black bag that the Spy holds out to you, his expression bored and indifferent as your hand roots around inside, feeling for something with an unusual texture or shape. You feel an array of different materials jumbled together in such a small container, ranging from smooth latex rubber to lumps of cold metal. Your hand finally brushes something unusual, the texture like rough worn leather.

You grasp it tightly, feeling its familiar spherical shape fitting comfortably in your palm, little bumps only just digging into your skin. Pulling it out, you realise that it's a baseball. The once pristine white leathery panels are now a worn dusty brown, wearing from years of use. The panels are held together by thin, lumpy stitching which has turned into a dirty bland shade of red.

You toss the ball up in the air, a small smile on your lips as you turn to look at the team.

"Scout? This has got to be yours," you laugh, throwing the well-worn ball at the lanky runner, watching as he catches the battered ball with ease. The Scout gives a cocky laugh as he stands up and practically swaggers over to you, oozing with confidence as he flashes you a toothy grin.

"Of course it is! None of these bozos could compete with me when it comes to baseball!" he boasts, wiggling his eyebrows at you, before pushing you in the direction of the makeshift closet. You shoot a curious look over your shoulder as the Scout continues to hurry you towards your destination, seeing how the rest of the team roll their eyes at the young man.

"You're in for the time of your life," the Scout continues to boast as you approach the Spy, who gives an amused snort as he pulls open the closet's door, showing you the half-lit space that you will soon share with one loud-mouthed Scout.

Hearing the Spy, the Scout swings round and begins yelling abuse at him, throwing around words like 'faggot' and 'douchebag'. You let a laugh slip past your lips as you continue on without the bouncy young thing tailing you.

You begin to rummage around the closet in what little light you have, trying to clear the floor as best as you can in the vain hope to keep from tripping when darkness will soon fall. You have only moved a few things from your path when the sound of arguing ceases and the small amount of light you had is extinguished.

"Yo, where are you?" Comes the Scout's unsure voice from the direction the light had been only moments ago, accompanied by the sound of quick footsteps. A call of warning to the Scout dies on your lips as you feel his firm body crash into you, causing you both to tumble to the floor in a pile of tangled limbs.

You both cough as dust clogs the air briefly.

While you lay there trying to catch your breath, you begin to realise your position. You're flat on your back, your arms are being pinned to the floor by his long slender ones. His leg is tangled with yours, one resting between them, the other on the left side of you. You feel him shudder as he coughs, the sound right by your ear.

"Y- Ya could of told me that there was something in da way!" The Scout chokes, all bravado extinguished from his voice as he gives a few feeble coughs. You give a soft, agitated growl before answering.

"You didn't give me a chance! You just darted in here like a hyperactive child!" You argue as the dust settles and you can finally breathe clearly again.

The Scout grumbles, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the action automatically making you stiffen as you feel his warm breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. You attempt to untangle yourself from him only to be met by resistance. His arms seem braced, and clutch the floor, pressing you into the ground.

Before you can say a word you feel lips press against the crook of your neck. Warmth spreads across your skin as the lips travel at an increasing pace up your neck, every touch causing your heart to jolt as if sapped by lightning.

You wiggle slightly as his lips trail across your cheek before a pair of sharp teeth tease your earlobe, making you shiver and close your eyes momentarily.

"That feel good?" A nervous voice breathes into your ear, all the confidence absent from it. You feel him shift above you in anticipation before you answer.

"Yeah."

You breath softly wanting to feel his lips on your own. You feel his lips curl upward as he resumes his task, now letting his hands drift in calming strokes across your bare arms, his mouth crawling towards your lips.

You feel goosebumps rise on your arms when you finally feel his lips tentatively touch your own, his BONK!-laced breath intoxicating and the taste of the kiss sharp and sweet against your mouth. You lick your lips, tasting the delicious fizz that lingers there, egging the Scout on with soft whines.

He complies, deepening the kiss, stroking the crack of your lips with an agile tongue. Your lips part, the taste of BONK! strengthening as his tongue dances with yours. The fingers of one of your hands entwine with his while your other hand travels under his t-shirt, feeling the hard muscles that hide there.

Scout trembles beneath your fingertips as they skim his abdomen and trace his ribs. A desperate groan tries to escape his mouth but is muffled against your dancing lips. His lips seem to become hungrier, more demanding. His free hand skims the bare skin of your stomach as he tears your shirt upwards, his warm hand stroking sensitive skin.

A moan is trapped in your mouth as his hand runs up your ribs, sending sparks up your spine. Before his hands can creep any further, warm light spills over his back lighting the room in a warm glow. You hear a chuckle and a silhouette form behind Scout, the figure only filling some of the doorway.

"Time's up, petite lapin," Spy calls, smoke plumes hanging eerily around him.

The Scout is up in a flash, pulling you with him, patting down his shirt and shooting a glare at the Frenchman.

"Yeah yeah, frog, I know you miss me," the Scout smirks, giving you a wink before turning tail and heading for the doorway.

You roll your eyes as you straighten your shirt and shake the dust from your hair. As you are removing the dust you can hear Scout boasting about how you didn't know what you were in for. You laugh loudly as you wander out of the room, ready to throw back whatever else Scout was going to say.


	5. Demoman

You glare at the smoking Frenchman before gingerly dipping your hand into the coal black bag that is held between his gloved fingers. Your hand skims cold pieces of metal and a smooth piece of latex, searching for something warmer. It's not long before you find it. It is soft and plush as your fingers wrap around the piece of fabric, tugging it from the bundle of objects that litter the bottom of the bag.

As you pull, the length of fabric emerges, the artificial light showing the dark blue and deep green tartan pattern that the cloth has. Once the yard of soft fabric is bundled into your arms, you look at the group of mercenaries, your eyes resting on the only man with skin like chocolate.

"Demo?" You ask, holding the bundle out towards him, a soft smile on your lips.

The dark-skinned man rises from his seat, taking one last glug from his bottle of scrumpy before setting it back down with a thud and walking towards you, standing tall. When he stops in front of you, you try to stop the heat from spreading to your cheeks as he takes the fabric from you, his hands skimming yours as he removes it and wrapped the length of green tartan around his neck.

"Shall we get on with it?" The Scotsman askes you, flashing you a smile filled with pale teeth that stand out against his dark skin, the sight making your stomach do somersaults. You nod meekly and lead the way, heading towards the makeshift closet. Spy is already there holding the door open for you, a bored expression on his face.

You enter the closet and become interested in the array of items that cluttered the floor. Old hats and thick coats are all you can make out before you hear the sound of boots behind you and the light vanishing before you are ready.

You bite your lip in anticipation, the awkward silence almost tangible. You walk forward with a brief flash of confidence and wrap your arms around the hidden man's body, burying your face into his scarf cladded neck. You cling to him, enjoying the constant heat that ebbs through his clothing.

You breathe in and out, trying to calm the nerves that bubble in your stomach, a sudden spicy scent tickling your nose. You withdraw from him slightly, only half noticing that his arms have encased you in a sturdy embrace.

"Is that ginger?" You ask, curiously looking up into the darkness at where you assume his head is, a small, excited smile creeping onto your face. He gives a hearty laugh, and the spicy scent becomes stronger and more intoxicating.

"Right you are! But if I explain it to you, you're going to have to keep it a secret, you hear?" He warns playfully, the chuckle still lingering in his voice. You contemplate it for a moment before your curiosity wins over anything else.

"OK then, I promise to keep it a secret." You reply, grinning widely at the unseeing Demoman.

You feel him lean down, his facial hair scraping your cheek and his warm breath tickling your ear.

"You know my Scrumpy?" He asks softly in his rich accent, so thick that it makes your stomach erupt into nervous butterflies.

"Yes?" You answer, ignoring the reddening of your cheeks.

"Ginger Beer," he explains simply.

"Sorry?" You giggle, unsure if you have heard him correctly.

"You heard me. Ginger beer. When I don't feel quite up for some of my much-loved scrumpy, I fill some of the bottles with ginger beer. Lovely stuff." He explains, resting his cheek against yours, making the scent of ginger stronger.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him to you, and feel his arms coil around your middle, pulling you closer.

"That's a really smart idea, Demo. That way you can drink whatever you want and it's no one's business," you chirp lightly, a small giggle escaping your mouth.

He chuckles lightly, the sound vibrating through his body as he trails his fingers across your cheekbones. You're thankful for the darkness as it hides the growing blush that decorates the spots where his hand caresses your skin.

"Aye, thank you," he murmurs softly before you feel lips capture yours.

You're shocked by the Scotsman's boldness but sink into the spontaneous kiss regardless, enjoying the spicy taste that lingers on his lips. The hand at your chin holds you tighter and his arm coils around your waist, crushing you to his chest and causing you to sigh in content as you let your tongue trace the gap of the invading lips.

He gives an approving growl and parts his lips. The sweet spicy taste of ginger beer assaults your mouth as his tongue came to dance with yours. You whine softly, keeping your arms wrapped tightly around the Demoman's neck as he scoots you backwards, quickly pinning you against a wall.

A sharp pain in your bottom lip makes you give an involuntary, muffled gasp before the pain is numbed by a soft kiss pressed to it. The kiss only lasts a moment before lips trail butterfly kisses down your throat, the man's facial hair scraping against the sensitive skin. You moan as a shiver shoots up your spine, tilting your head back to enjoy the soft fleeting kisses and brushes of stubble against your skin.

Suddenly a burst of light blinds you, causing you to squeeze your eyes closed and turn away from the intruding light, pulling your arms back to you and hiding away against the Demoman's chest.

"Time's up, mes amis," an indifferent voice calls from beyond the light. The French accent makes it easy to distinguish who the speaker is. The man you are huddled against shifts, stepping away from you and inspecting your lip in the light.

"Sorry if I hurt you, sometimes I get a bit carried away..." He whispers softly, stroking the tender spot with his thumb. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his thumb before standing on your toes to press a brief one to his lips.

You pull back and give him a cheeky smile before turning on your heels and making your way to the lit doorway. However, before you make it far a hand grabs your wrist and spins you round. Your hand rests against the towering man's chest once more and this time, you can see his face.

"This ain't over." He smirks, his voice low and husky, giving you wink before releasing you and moving past and leaving you alone. A wide smile spreads on your face and your stomach twists in excitement.

You smooth out your clothes and gather your composure before walking back out into the light.


	6. Pyro

Reaching inside the dark bag, you avoid eye contact with the slimy Frenchman that holds it. You've never really liked Spies; they're all cocky and too sneaky for their own good. You look over at the Pyro and it gives you a thumbs up, as if to encourage you. You smile at it as you let your fingers skim the items that filled the bag, feeling a few different textures and settling on something smooth and metal.

You pull your hand out and take a peek at the small object in your palm. It's a small rectangle that has a little weight to it; the bright blue paint that coats the outside of it is flaking off, showing the silvery metal beneath it. You recognise that this is a lighter and have seen it plenty of times before. You grin widely and spin round, holding the lighter for everyone to see.

"Recognise this, Py?" You call teasingly, watching as the masked being claps its hands together and jumps up from it seat. You laugh as the Pyro bounds towards you before it pounces on you, laughter-like mumbles issuing from its gas mask.

"**Ahem.**"

You both turn round to see the Spy glaring at you with a furrowed brow, the door that leads to the makeshift closet being held open by him.

"If you are quite ready…" he sighs in annoyance, taking a lingering drag of his cigarette. You release the Pyro, press the lighter into its gloved hand and walk through the door as quickly as you can, ignoring the look of distaste on masked Frenchman's face.

You linger not far from the doorway, not wanting to venture too far into the looming darkness without someone with you. You hear angry mumbles from behind you and you turn to see Pyro attempting to tell off the Spy only to receive a cloud of smoke in its face before the Spy turns on his heel.

"Mmh mmhh mmh mh," Pyro warns the Spy, making the Spy sigh again.

"Yes, yes I promise to only knock," he calls over his shoulder smugly. The Pyro gives a huff before turning to see you waiting at the door and making excited noises as it grasps your hand and closes the door. You grip the Pyro's hand tightly as you both wade through the darkness, venturing a little further into the closet.

"Py, use your lighter," you instruct the firebug as you trip and collide with the Pyro's suit-clad back. The Pyromaniac gives a noise of approval and soon a flickering flame fends off some of the darkness unfortunately only giving off a small glow. "Well, it was worth a try," you snicker lovingly as the Pyro huffs at the dwindling flame.

"Let's stop here, okay?" You ask, giving Py's hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling the masked being squeeze back. You both stop and settle on the floor, far enough that the door won't cast too much light in if the Spy decides to open the door, though why that's a problem you didn't know. It makes you curious as to why the Pyro is so worried when normally it's so laid back.

"Why are you so worried about Spy opening the door?" You ask, stroking its hand through the gloves of it asbestos suit. The Pyro releases your hand and places a rubber-tipped finger to your lips before he pulls away and you hear the squeaks of his rubber suit and then a soft pop noise. You subconsciously tilt your head to the side, curious as to what you're masked friend is doing.

You are startled when you hear heavy breathing clearly from out of the blue.

"God...I always struggle to take the darn thing off…" a male voice pants lightly, giving a short laugh afterwards. His voice showing hints of a British accent. You stare into the darkness where you're sure the voice is coming from, feeling shock course through your body.

"P-Py? You've…?" You stammer, unable to get the words out quickly enough. The shock you feel is evident in your voice. You hear him chuckle nervously and he grabs your hand.

"Taken my mask off? Yeah, we can talk better now, can't we?" He asks and without even seeing his unmasked face you can hear the smile in his voice.

You laugh and wrap your free arm around his waist to curl up against him.

"We can. Thanks, Py," you smile, hugging him tighter for a moment before loosening your grip. He chuckles softly and wraps his own arm around you.

"It's nice knowing that you can understand me properly for a change," he explains sheepishly as he rests his cheek against your head. You hum in agreement, still in awe at the fact that Py has removed his mask and is just casually chatting to you.

You both sit in silence for what feels like forever before you finally bite the bullet and ask the question that you're burning to say.

"Why don't you take your mask off during ceasefire?" You blurt out, unable to bear the silence.

Py stiffens slightly, the question hanging in the air. You wait, hoping for an answer. After a minute of pure agonising silence, he replies.

"Because I have burns on my face…" He answers softly, his voice somewhat sad. You hug him tighter and rub your thumb against the back of his hand.

"And you don't want people to see them?" You finish, gently tilting your face upwards even though you can't see anything because of the blinding darkness.

"Yeah, people tend to just stare, and I think someone once started calling me Scarface." The unmasked man remarks bitterly, letting a sigh escape his lips. You sit up, pulling away from him. Your hand's still grasped in his while he holds you tighter, as if he's afraid you're leaving.

"I bet you look fine, Py," you assure him, an unseen smile on your face.

"Really? I don't know..." comes a strangled whisper from the darkness, scared yet hopeful at the same time.

"Really. Anyway, it's what's on the inside that counts, you know," you counter, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. You hear him soften at your touch and lean into your hand as you let the silky strands run through your fingertips. He releases the hand that he holds to catch the one that now rakes through his hair, tugging downwards softly and allowing you to cup his cheek.

You hold your breath as he releases your hand and you let your fingers trace the rough patches that decorate his cheekbone. You hear him sigh contently as your cool, smooth fingers soothe and stroke the burn that frames his face. From how far your hand has travelled, the incurable burn runs the length of the man's face, varying from thin thread-like lines to thick two-inch lines that seem jagged at the edges.

"How did it happen?" You breathe, tracing the bottom of the scar as it flicks just below his lips, ignoring the jolt of your heart as your fingertips brushed his lips.

"I think that's for another time, seeing as we only have a few minutes left," he mumbles shyly as he moves a hand to your waist and lets his other caress your cheek.

"Too long?" You ask meekly, trying not to squeak as you feel his gloved fingers run against your slowly reddening cheek.

"No, I just had something else in mind..." he utters quietly before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

It's a simple, soft kiss but it still males you blush incredibly. Py pulls away quickly and you both remain silent.

"Was that...ok?" He inquires, his hands still in place. You have to work hard to think of the right words.

"Yes," you whisper, leaning forward to press a much less innocent kiss to his lips. You miss slightly and your lips touch the rough part of his face.

However, you are unfazed, and rest a few brief kisses to his scarred cheek before kissing him on the mouth, tasting something like liquorice and aniseed as your lips linger on his for a moment longer. You pull back, quickly worried about your sudden boldness. You hear Py laugh loudly before tugging you into his arms and resting a kiss into your hair.

"Thank you." He mumbles into your hair as he strokes your back.

Before you can utter a word there come three sharp raps at the door, and the seedy voice of the Spy leaks from behind it.

"Time's up, enfants," he calls teasingly from outside, a chuckle following soon after.

"Come on, let's go," Py instructs you, pulling you upwards so that you're standing, before you hear him fumble around for his mask and hear his breath become muffled as his mask is replaced.

You reach out and hold his hand once he's finished, and guide you both back to the door.


	7. Heavy

You place your hand inside the dark bag that the bored looking Spy holds in front of you, ignoring the flutter of anticipation in your stomach. You know that there are only three possible people you could end up with, meaning that there are only three items left for you to choose from.

Your hand skims the bottom of the canvas bag, causing something metal to roll into your fingers. The sudden coldness almost makes you jump back but instead you curl your fingers around its cylindrical shape, letting your fingers stroke the smooth curved surface.

You pull your hand from the bag and open it to see a long bronze-coloured bullet sittting in the palm of your hand, an inch of the curved tip the colour of copper. You roll the softly gleaming bullet across your palm before running your fingers across its smooth surface, holding it up to the remaining mercenaries.

"Whose is this?" You ask, regardless of the fact that there is only one man who uses such bullets. Heavy stands up, a smile plastered over his face.

"Mine. Bullet is for Sasha." He booms grandly as he steps heavily towards you. Once he looms over you, he plucks the bullet from between your tiny fingers and pockets it.

"Come then, let's get this over with, da?" Heavy comments, placing one of his meaty hands on your back and gently egging you forwards. You oblige obediently and wander through the closet first, anticipation biting at your stomach. You poke your tongue out at the Spy as you step inside the make-shift closet, loving the look of annoyance that flashes across his features before he sneers at you.

You hear Heavy laugh from behind you, obviously seeing what you just did. He gives you a friendly and quite strong pat on the back, the force of his hand propelling you forward into the darkness.

"Spy, you can never take joke," Heavy says through broken laughter as he steps inside after you, taking away what little light there was.

A sharply said "Seven Minutes" is all you hear before complete darkness takes over your vision, rendering you blind. You freeze on the spot, suddenly unsure as to what to do. You give a frightened squeak and jump when a pair of large hands grasp your shoulders.

"There you are!" He chuckles deeply. "What do we do now?" He asks brightly, giving your shoulders a squeeze. You smile at how bright and cheerful Heavy can be even when he doesn't know what's going on.

"Have you never played Seven Heaven before, Heavy?" You ask curiously, resting your hands on his beefy forearms.

"Nyet, I have heard some things about it. But not what actually happens when we are inside the closet," He explains thoughtfully. You can imagine him tilting his head to the side, perplexed.

"Ah, well. You're 'supposed' to kiss and stuff like that, but we can just talk if you'd like." You explain, smiling into the darkness before you.

"Da! I understand!" Heavy exclaims before tugging you forward by your shoulders into a rib crushing hug. You give a strangled gasp as all the air evacuates your lungs as you are pinned against his muscular chest.

"H- Heavy! Too tight!" You gasp weakly and he loosens his grip, blessing you with a refreshing lungful of air. Heavy chuckles sheepishly, keeping his hands planted upon your shoulders.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?" He asks softly as you take some more shaky breaths before you feel better.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you." You assure him, resting a hand on his wide forearm and squeezing it reassuringly.

"Good," he states proudly before resting a hand against your cheek. "Now, I kiss you." He informs you and before you can speak a word, a pair of careful lips touches your own.

You're startled by his gentleness as Heavy applies a mere amount of pressure as he kisses you, stroking your cheek with one hand while the other holds you close, the heat of his hand enveloping your back.

You feel a smile grace your face as you relax into Heavy's hand, liking the softness of the kiss and letting your arms rest on his muscular chest.

Your eyes just began to close and your mouth begin to demand more before light suddenly spills into the room, showing Heavy's face close to your own.

"Time's up," the indifferent voice of the Spy calls, and his silhouette leaves the doorway.

You pull away from Heavy, looking down as your face begins to redden. You feel shy all of a sudden, the idea of looking at Heavy after you'd just kissed him making your stomach clench. You felt a finger tilt your face upwards and your vision is filled by dark blue eyes.

"We ok, da?" Heavy asks, giving you a blissful smile. You smile back, the shyness fading slightly.

"Yeah, shall we grab something to eat?" You ask him, watching as his face lights up.

"Da! I have sandwiches in fridge, want to share?" He beams as he grabs hold of you and practically drags you from the closet.


	8. Medic

You bite your bottom lip nervously as you look between the Medic and the Spy – the only two mercenaries who are yet to be paired off. You let your gaze linger on the Medic far too long and turn away meekly when you notice, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

The Spy makes an impatient noise and shakes the bag in his hands at you, goading you to hurry up. His masked face shows his displeasure. You ignore his raised eyebrows and plunge your hand into the dark bag, letting your fingers trace the sides till they reach the bottom.

Your hand searches the near empty depths of the bag till your reaching fingers brush against something silky and smooth. You gently wrap your fingers around the foreign object, feeling how it is virtually weightless. Its presence is only just recognisable on your skin.

You retract your hand and see the item resting against your fingers. It's a long feather. The plume is a clean shade of white, the feel of it against your skin soft and light. You feel your heart flutter as you know that the feather can only be from a certain well looked-after dove.

Turning around you look at the Medic and hold the feather up.

"I guess this is from Archimedes, Medic?" You ask, confidence leaking out in your voice. The Medic adjusts his silver-framed spectacles as he stands up and walks with brisk steps so that he stands in front of you, looking down at you with ice blue eyes, cool and calculated.

"Ja, it is. He has recently begun to shed more feathers. I'm going to have to do some research to make sure it is nothing serious." He explains as he plucks the feather from your grasp and runs his ungloved fingers across it, as if inspecting it.

You don't realise that you had been doing your own inspection of the Medic till you hear a rather impatient sound as the Spy clears his throat, and you look away to see him holding the door to the makeshift closet open watching you and the Medic expectantly.

"If you are quite ready." The Spy comments purstly as you walk past him and through the doorway.

As you step inside you can see the assortment of items littering the ground and see where other people have been. You jump when you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn round, ready to slap the hand from your shoulder, only to see that it's the Medic.

"Now liebling. Stay with me, ja?" The Medic instructs, keeping a hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle push with the other. You step further inside, feeling your face burn as you feel the warmth of the Medic's hands seep through your t-shirt.

When the Medic feels that you have gone far enough he stops you and gestures for you to take a seat. You both settle on a patch of floor that is the least cluttered, and the Medic turns to the doorway.

"You can shut the door now, Herr Spy," he instructs the Spy, who closes the door even before the Medic has finished speaking.

You and the Medic are now drenched in the darkness, causing all your other senses to become sharper. You can hear your heart thumping in your chest and the sound of the Medic's steady breathing in front of you. You can smell the antiseptic that he uses clinging to his skin, sharp and clear in comparison to the cloying smell of dust that lingers in the air.

"So... you must find these games childish, huh?" You say meekly, wringing your hands together nervously, unsure of how to act. You hear the Medic chuckle lightly before he answers you.

"Not at all. It was during one of these in university that I met mein wife," he explains, chuckling again.

You feel your heart sink.

"Y-You have a wife?" You ask, your voice stuttering ever so slightly.

"I did, but... nein... not any more." He sighs and you leaned forward, concerned.

"But-" you begin, but the Medic interrupts you.

"It was not long before I joined BLU, if I remember correctly." He begins, his voice sounding as if he is far away in his thoughts.

"I had moved to America with my wife so that we were closer to her sister and her family. We both felt it would be a fresh start after living in Germany during the war." He explains, and you listen intently, eager to learn more about the usually formal German.

"We had both learned English in Germany which managed to get us jobs very quickly. She worked in the local secondary school, teaching biology. I got a job at the town's hospital as a Doctor."

"After a few months passed, after our arrival in America, Astrid began to wake in the morning with nausea. It was then that we realised she was pregnant." He paused for a moment before continuing. "We were overjoyed at the prospect of becoming parents. The nine months passed in a blur of excitement and preparations for the baby's arrival."

You can feel yourself smile despite your original worries, hearing the happiness in his tone. But your smile falters when you hear the happy note in his voice subside as he continues.

"However, the due day came and went and the baby had yet to arrive. I watched over Astrid and she kept me up to date with her condition. It was another month before the contractions started and I rushed her to hospital." He reaches out to you and links his fingers with yours as he continues.

"We had discussed it already and she wanted me to be the one to deliver the baby. She felt that she'd be more comfortable that way. So when we began the labour process, I noticed something in the scans that had been overlooked. The baby had not fallen into the delivery position and this required me to perform a caesarean."

The Medic squeezes your hand and remains silent for few moments before he continues, his voice strained.

"The caesarean had not gone smoothly. I'd managed to retrieve our child and discovered that we had a little girl, but she had trouble breathing and I had to give her to another doctor to get her the necessary care before turning my attention back to Astrid. She... she was losing blood and I wasn't quick enough. She died due to losing too much during the procedure."

You feel the Medic shudder as his voice begins to sound broken and pained. "I felt so bad that she had died under my watch. Her blood on my hands. What made it worse was that not two hours later our daughter also passed on. I'd lost both of them and it was all my fault."

You don't think as throw your arms round him and hold him close, letting him bury his head into your shoulder as he clings to you, his arms pinning you to him.

"I quit my job afterwards. I arranged the funerals for both of them with help from Astrid's sister. The name we had ready if the baby was female was Lottie, so both graves were named. And then I saw a flyer saying a Medic was needed for war a week after the funeral and I applied without a second thought."

You gently run your fingers through his hair, stroking it soothingly as your other hand traces the muscles of his back reassuringly.

"Danke, mein liebling," he murmurs as he pulls away from you and presses an awkward kiss to your forehead.

You don't have time to register what he had done till light floods the small space and you can see the Spy lingering in the doorway.

"Time's up," He calls inside before disappearing. The Medic gets to his feet and holds out a hand to help you up. You accept it and let him pull you up.

"We should talk more. Would you like to come to my office for coffee?" The Medic asks, still holding your hand. He wears a relieved smile on his face. You nod and smile as he turns to lead you back outside. You feel a flutter in your chest as you remember the story and the gentle kiss he placed to your forehead, and you vow to never let him be sad again.


End file.
